What makes the difference?
by Nici Bianca
Summary: Warning: The following story is NOT a fanfiction of the Hunger Games! It s a short story a friend of mine wrote by herself and I just post it here under my name for you to read. Reviews are very appreciated! The story line reminded me of the one from the Hunger Games, that s why I post it under this genre. Please R&R


**Warning: This is NOT a fanfiction, but an own short story a very good friend of mine wrote – I´m just posting it here for her! I/We would very appreciate it if you´d still read it and tell me/us what you think about it. **

"What makes the difference?"

Her heart was beating out of her chest as she climbed onto the railing. Her quick breathing created a fine mist in the freezing morning air and the girl swiftly grabbed a lamppost next to her and hold on to it as if it would give her strength.

Very slowly she leaned forward to look over the edge, but all she could see was the vacuous whiteness of the fog staring back at her. She pulled her head back and tried to restraint her constant shivering. Although she was wearing a black thermo suit, cold sweat poured down her neck. Whilst trying to swallow her fear the girl turned more and more breathless. Her chest tightened up while she thought her lungs would explode. Her mouth started watering and she noticed the taste of blood. She swallowed hard and blinked several times to clear her view. It was just then that she noticed she was crying. Big tears rolled down her cheeks an dropped down, disappearing in the fog.

"Get yourself together", she mumbled while wiping her face. "This is just a bloody suicide. No need to cry like a little girl."

After a few minutes the girl began to breath more steadily. Her body was vibrating from adrenaline and her throat was aching of the long exposure to the contaminated air.

"I should have taken my face mask with me, but now it´s too late anyway I guess", she said sarcastically. She sniffed and took a last look at the world.

Opposite of the bridge where she was standing, she could just make out a congeries of chunky grey buildings the Southwork oxygen factories. To her left was a large complex of apartments which extended to a couple of square kilometers. It was the dream of every citizen to live in one of those houses, which were made out of glass and concrete. This was where the rich people were living who still could afford clear water and electricity.

A tipped over sign said that this must have been a district called "Belgravia", nowadays it was named "Area B". On the right side of the river the poor people lived in abandoned and shabby houses without a safe water supply and no electricity at all. The people on this side of the river lived a very hard life and many wondered how they even survived.

"Without the black market they would have been all dead by now", the girl exclaimed bitterly. She turned away and her face suddenly looked a lot older.

Inhale, exhale, inhale … "So this must be the end … I- I hope." Just when she was ready to leave everything behind and fell, a dark and distorted voice interrupted the silence.

"Would it make a difference?"

The girl jerked back, landed on her feet and looked around puzzled, searching for the

origin of the voice. "Who … who is this? Show yourself!" Her voice trembled as she furiously turned on the spot, feeling blind and exposed.

"Would it make a difference?", repeated the voice with more force. It was right behind the girl and her heart skipped a beat. Whilst holding her breath she slowly glanced over her shoulder. Out of the fog a hunched, shapeless figure appeared sitting on the ground. It was an old man who was wearing tatty clothes in which he looked thin and fragile.

She suspiciously approached him and noticed a pile of outdated newspaper he was sitting on. ´_He must be one of those homeless people who stray through the _city´, she thought. ´_Should I even go near him?_´ She decided to keep a distance of at least two meters between them.

The man looked up and had obviously difficulties with taking off his face mask. Eventually, he managed and a wrinkled face with sharp blue eyes and grey matted hair appeared. His breathing was noisy, he looked uncomfortable when he breathed in the dirty, cold air. Then he looked looked straight into her eyes. "Would it make a difference if you jump?" his voice was now gruffly and husky. She looked at him confused. "Would the world or anything else change except that you´re dead?"

"I guess not, but I cannot go on like this. Have you looked around? The word is falling apart, crumbling! The water is muddy, the air is polluted and everything the government cares about is pleasing the rich people and oppressing the poor!" Without realizing it her voice got louder and louder as she spoke. "When was the last time you saw a tree, huh? Except in the damn oxygen factories there are nowhere trees or any kind of plant to be seen!", she shouted without waiting for an answer. "Am I ever going to be able to have children in a world torn apart between destruction and absolute power? No, because I would constantly think about being responsible for what I am doing to them, what a burden they´ll have to carry! What can the world offer them but pain? For god´s sake, this should be the 22nd century and not the end of the world!"

The man remained silent, besides he was cocking his head, a subtle smile on his dry lips. His indifference to her speech enraged the girl even more.

"Do you even care? Do you think this is a fucking joke to me? Because it´s not!" She gave him an angry look, breathless and red-faced since she barely breathed during her monologue.

The homeless man still had not taken his eyes off her. Moreover he cleared his throat and opened his mouth: "I can definitely see that you are very committed to this world, far more committed than to kill yourself." Once again she threw a baffled look at him, yet let him go on. "You see, a person who cares so much about something just like you, shouldn´t give up on it. Even though you fell betrayed by life and humanity, you have to stick to your beliefs!", he said forcefully. "If not you, how many other people are there to care? Like you said, the government is not likely to take responsibility for their actions, but you, you could really change something … and THAT is what makes the difference."

The following silence was only interrupted by the new heavy breathing of both of them and the restrained birds´ twittering.

The first sunrays cut threw the fog like golden swords illuminating the bridge. The sudden light blinded the girl and she squinted her eyes. Because of the bright back-lighting, the figure of the man was hardly more than a dark shadow.

"Listen", his voice said to her, "The birds are singing, and where life is, there is also hope. It is inevitable, just like your destiny."

Confused and with thousand thoughts in her head she moved backwards, staring at the old man. Suddenly she hit the railing, awakening her from the trance she was in. All at once she remembered the situation she was in and what she was about to do. Her shivering started again and her heart sped up.

As if remote-controlled, she climbed onto the railing, clenching onto the lamppost more than she had hold on to something ever before. Her view changed in and out of focus, the sunrays created various dark spots in her sight.

Bumm, bumm, bumm, her heart beating against her chest.

Dot, dot, dot, the cold sweat dripping down her forehead.

Plitter – platter, the starting rain falling onto the river surface and soaking her clothes.

Pictures flashing by: the black oxygen factories on the horizon, the glass fronts reflecting the beams of sunlight, the sincere blue eyes of the man, her younger sisters´ emaciated face, the sight of the wafting fog below her feet … more and more noises and pictures filled her brain. She could hardly hear herself screaming. "Stop it, please make it stop!" She pressed her hand against her ear and shut her eyes.

Suddenly, all she could hear was the oxygen filling her lungs and leaving it again. Breath in, breath out, breath in, breath out.

She let go of the lamppost …

**Note**

Like you already noticed, and read in the summary, this is not a real fanfiction.

This is a short story a very good friend of mine wrote, and because I´m so impressed by it, she allowed me to post it under my name here.

So: All rights belong to her! I don´t own any of this story, I just post it here!

When I first read it it reminded me of the ´Hunger Games´ story, that´s why I added it under this genre.

Reviews are **very **appreciated, so if you like it, tell me/her what you think about it! (I´m gonna pass it on to her)


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